


Beauty And

by MissNaya



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Courtly Love, Dragons, First Time, Kidnapping, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Princes & Princesses, Rescue, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: Prince Richard of Gotham is kidnapped by Deathstroke the dragon. It's up to Sir Todd, Knight Commander, to rescue him. But how much danger is the prince really in...?





	Beauty And

**Author's Note:**

> for JayDick Week, day 6: Knights/Royalty AU // Arranged/Fake Marriage. this is a story for the former. I tried a more flowery style of prose to try and match the time period, so I hope it turned out well!

The great, old dragon Deathstroke was an ugly thing, with shimmering blue and orange scales and a jagged scar over where its right eye used to be. For decades, it had lived in peace with Gotham Kingdom in its cave across the mountains. The offerings it received were enough to keep its greedy old heart placated, and it wasn't like the kingdom's monarchs didn't have enough to give it.

But the new king, Bruce I, wasn't like his placid father, or his desperately peace-seeking great-grandfather. He was young and wide-eyed and idealistic, and didn't believe in giving away money and food that could be better spent enriching his subjects' lives. Since taking the throne, he put out so many decrees to attempt to spread his wealth more evenly that some had taken to calling him Bruce the Philanthropic. The latest of those decrees involved breaking the truce with Deathstroke that had kept him amicable for so long.

_More like Bruce the Idiotic,_ Sir Todd thought, trudging his way through the mountains with an army trailing behind.

King Bruce had hoped that foregoing the dragon's monthly tribute would force him out of hiding and give them a chance to talk on their own terms, as legend had it that the old thing wasn't as quick to attack as some others of its kind. It could be won over with words, if one knew how to use them.

It had happened so quickly that even the most trained among them hadn't been prepared, despite taking extra precautions after the order came out. Those wings had blotted out the sun one humid afternoon, right on time. But rather than land in the field near the outskirts of the kingdom, Deathstroke soared all the way to the castle. Before the guards could react, he reached down, tore the roof off of the heirs' quarters, and snatched the eldest prince right out of his bed.

Needless to say, it was now Sir Todd's duty as Knight Commander to rescue the poor bastard.

It was his hope that Prince Richard wouldn't be too bad off by the time they got to him. The prince was older than he was by a few years, but he'd always seemed much younger to Jason. His childhood had been spent goofing off with the palace jesters more than it had been spent with his tutors, and during discussions of politics, he often seemed distracted and disinterested. Jason couldn't count the number of times he'd had to avert his eyes to pretend like he didn't see Richard canoodling with some pretty noblewoman.

He imagined Prince Richard trembling and terrified in some corner of the dragon's lair, perfect hair mussed up, beautiful blue eyes sparkling with tears. Then he let his mind wander some more, imagining himself and his men charging in, swords raised, to valiantly hack at the drooling beast until old Deathstroke was no more. He would strike the finishing blow himself, then offer a callused and bloodied hand to the prince. The prince's hand, delicate and silk-smooth in his own, would cease its shaking in his grasp, and Richard would collapse against his chest, while Jason remained steadfast and unwavering despite having sustained several ugly wounds.

He let the fantasy carry him to some places that would definitely have him beheaded were anyone to discover what he was thinking. Okay, so even he wasn't immune to the prince's charms; it was a bit shameful for him to admit it even to himself, considering that knights were supposed to be paragons of virtue, but he couldn't help it. Prince Richard was intoxicating, and he knew it. And sometimes, when it was just the two of them, Sir Todd could almost believe that there was mischief in the prince's eyes when he stared at him, a kind of mischief that made his heart jump and his back straighten.

But that was just wishful thinking, surely.

By the time Sir Todd came to his senses, he was able to see the dragon's lair up ahead. Deathstroke made his home in an arched cave, and even from the base of the peak, one could see the twinkling of his hoard through the impossibly wide stone maw. As he and his men drew closer, they could hear muffled voices: the low, gruff rumble of a dragon, paired with something lighter, higher... A series of yelps, from the sound of it.

“The prince is in danger!” Jason shouted, drawing his sword and raising it above his head. “Charge!”

They crested the peak in record time, hooves and armored feet clambering noisily up the incline. The sounds from Prince Richard grew louder with every step, until finally Jason could see him surrounded by piles and piles of gold, writhing around on the cave floor. He snapped his horse's reins and sped ahead of the rest of the group, determined to spare the prince from any further harm.

“Vile beast! Leave him... alone...?”

Jason's words trailed off into a question once he was close enough to hear Prince Richard more clearly. His horse slowed to a stop as if equally puzzled, the pair of them cocking their heads to hear... laughter?

“Stop it, stop it!” The prince was on his back, hands clutching at his stomach as he gasped for air. “The look on his face... I can't imagine!”

“It's the truth,” the dragon said, its voice rumbling the ground around them. “Your old grandfather thought himself quite the rebel once.”

“ _Please,_ no more,” Richard begged. He kicked out with one foot, disturbing a jewel-encrusted chess board that had been set up between them. “He looks so serious in the portraits... I'll have them repainted when I'm king, make him look the part. That castle's far too gloomy!”

Jason blinked, not quite sure what he was seeing. He looked from Prince Richard to the dragon and back again, mouth agape. Behind him, his army fell victim to a similar fate, slowing and stopping with their weapons half-raised.

“Um...” Jason cleared his throat. “Release... the prince?”

Prince Richard rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow, exhaling the last ghosts of laughter. “Oh, Sir Todd! I didn't expect you all here so soon. I'll have father raise your wages when we get back to celebrate your swiftness, okay?”

“I... Yes?”

Jason watched in amazement as the prince pulled himself to his feet, hardly a hair out of place, and patted Deathstroke on the massive snout. He kept staring as Richard walked over to him, and, calmly as if he'd just been out for a stroll, pulled himself up onto the back of his horse.

“Alright,” he said, locking his arms around Jason's waist. “Take me home.”

“S...ir?” one of his men asked. All Jason could do was look over at him and mouth “I don't know.”

“Oh, don't worry about the old man,” Prince Richard said, setting his chin on Jason's shoulder. “We talked it through and came to an agreement. He has a half-human daughter in the next village over who wants to be a knight. As long as you take her in, Sir Todd, he'll call us even.”

“A... daughter.”

Jason wasn't sure what was stranger: that Deathstroke actually sired a child with a human woman, or that the girl wanted to do something as brutish as learn to fight.

He felt the prince grin next to his cheek. “Stranger things have happened, haven't they?”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, closed it, shrugged, and nodded. Amid a sea of just-as-confused murmurs, he turned his horse and started to lead them back home.

* * *

 

It wasn't until much later, after the prince had been reunited with his family (and chewed out by his father for bargaining with a dragon, then praised in the same breath for working things out non-violently), that Jason saw Richard again.

“I suppose I should thank you,” he said, striding through the empty corridor to close the distance between them, “for saving me from the dragon.”

“Uh.” Jason was half-dressed, tunic balled up in his fists where he stood next to the laundry chutes. He wasn't sure what to make of Prince Richard's smirk. “Technically, I didn't do much of anything.”

“Oh, but you did,” the prince said, looping his arms around Jason's neck in a way that made his hairs stand on end. “You gave me a ride. Kept me safe _all_ the way down that big mountain...”

“I, uh.” Jason gulped. The prince's mouth hovered far too close to his own. “I... guess I did. Uh. You're welcome?”

Richard chuckled in that intoxicating way of his.

“Oh, but Sir Knight,” he said, batting his eyelashes, “I haven't _thanked you_ properly yet...”

The prince's soft, soft lips pressed against his. Jason dropped his tunic.

  
  


Okay. Okay, this was fine. He'd led armies, recovered from devastating wounds, and (kind of) faced off with a dragon. Being locked in a room with Prince Richard — who was in the process of kissing a line down his torso — should have been the least of his troubles.

So why, then, did his heart feel as if it were about to escape his chest?

“Wait, wait,” Jason said, pressing his ear up to the door for what must have been the fifth time already. “I think I hear someone.”

Richard just laughed and settled down onto his knees. “I told you, that's impossible. The guards know not to let anyone down here. I do this all the time.”

Jason let the back of his head _thunk_ against the heavy wooden door. “I'll pretend like I didn't just hear that.”

“Much obliged, Sir Knight.”

He was ashamed to say he didn't do anything to stop Richard from tugging his underclothes off. He tried to keep to the church's values, he really did, and he thought he deserved some credit for maintaining his chastity for so long. But who was he to argue with his prince? Surely there was some code, or exception, or— or _something_ to account for situations like this.

Or maybe he just didn't want Richard to stop doing what he was doing with his mouth.

That bobbing and licking and sucking felt far better than Jason would have ever imagined, and it wasn't long before his knees began to quiver. Wasn't that something? About to go into battle with a dragon, he'd been still as a stone, but a few minutes alone with the prince, and he felt like he was falling apart. But, gods above, if this was what falling felt like, he never wanted to land.

Just when he felt like he was about to crest some hill, cross some line, the prince pulled back, lips swollen obscenely. His eyes met Jason's own, and the sight was almost enough to send him spiraling over the edge. But Prince Richard, eyes shining with something devilish, kept a hand wrapped around him in a way that held him back.

“Not yet, Sir Knight,” he whispered, lips flush against the slick head of Jason's member. “I've something even better in mind. Come.”

Richard rose, and Jason knew better than to disagree, even when his prince started to shed his own ornate, silky clothes. He only hesitated when Richard sank down into bed, spreading his legs the way Jason imagined a common whore might.

“I, this is...” Jason stammered, averting his eyes. “I don't— We shouldn't—”

“Mmn.” Jason heard Richard pick something heavy up off of the table next to the bed. “You deserve it. Poor, lonely Sir Todd, always going to his chambers by himself... A man who protects this kingdom as well as you should get a reward, shouldn't he?”

“Chastity is a virtue—”

“You're cute.”

Richard laughed, and Jason finally risked looking back at him. In one hand, he held a golden pitcher, which he used to drip sweet-smelling oils down his stomach. With the other, he spread the concoction around, hand dipping lower and lower with every pass over his body. At the sight of his length standing at attention, Jason was sure his mouth dropped open.

“You always seem so serious,” Richard went on, “so _angry._ Is that just an act to scare people off? Here I thought you'd be all over me already...”

“I, uh.” Jason licked his lips and swallowed. “I.”

Richard laughed again. The sound tickled Jason in a most intimate way. “Incredible! I owe Timothy a few gold pieces. He told me you were more bark than bite.”

Jason tried not to think of the princes gathering around and gossiping about him, but found it impossible. He wasn't sure whether to be irritated or flattered.

So caught up in his internal debate, he hadn't realized Prince Richard, deft and silent, had slipped a few oil-slick fingers inside himself. Not until he heard him sigh in contentment.

“But you're perceptive, too, Sir Knight. I know you watch me.” Jason opened his mouth to protest, but Richard cut him off. “Don't lie. It's alright. You saw me with Princess Koriand'r, didn't you?”

Jason remembered the princess, Richard's betrothed from the kingdom Tamaran. It was an arrangement of convenience, not love, but that didn't stop the pair from trying to make the most of things. And, from what Jason saw one not-quite-silent night through a crack in the door to a scarcely-used sitting room, make the most of things they did.

“Y-you two were supposed to wait until your wedding night,” Jason mumbled. “I thought about stopping you, but...”

Richard grinned. “No need for explanations. She's a beautiful one, isn't she? I'd have gotten caught up in the sight, too.” He chuckled. “Or was it me you were looking at?”

Jason moved into a bow, leg bent, hand over his heart. “My prince, I'm so—”

“Stop it.” Richard passed his tongue over his lips, and the smile faded as if he'd licked it away. Jason watched him slide a third finger inside himself. “I don't want you kneeling unless it's on this bed with me. Do you understand?”

Jason felt his breath leave his lungs. “Yes.”

“Good. Sir Knight, you watched when I was with the archer, too, didn't you?” Richard's head lulled to the side. He seemed to enjoy the memory. “And Constable Gordon's daughter. And you still try to feign innocence...”

“I.” A million and one excuses flew to the forefront of Jason's mind, but he knew they were more for his own benefit than Prince Richard's. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I had assumed you preferred those with red hair, my prince.”

“They _are_ wily ones, aren't they?” Richard asked with a grin. “But don't worry. There's room in my bed for you, too.”

Jason didn't move. He just stared, eyes dark with lust he finally allowed himself to show, until Richard moaned, “Come now. Quick.”

There was truly no arguing with a prince. That's how Jason rationalized it as he climbed on top of the bed, arms on either side of Richard's body, kneeling between his legs. The mere thought of his prince taking the woman's position filled him with equal parts scandal and arousal, and he shuddered, already dripping from the tip of his length.

Richard poured one last, oozing bit of oil over himself, then set the pitcher back on the table and pressed slippery hands into Jason's waist. His eyes were darker than their usual ocean blue, near-completely black as if overtaken by some spell. This, Jason figured, was the power of earthly pleasure.

“Have you lied with anyone, Sir Todd?” Richard asked.

“Never,” Jason breathed.

Richard's smirk returned, somehow more devious than the last. “Then I shall make this memorable for you.”

Jason wanted to tell him he already had, but was stopped when Richard pulled him into a kiss. This one felt deeper somehow, different than the hurried ones they'd traded on the way to Richard's secret hideout. Or perhaps Jason just imagined it so, caught up in the dizzying heat of it all. It was how he'd always imagined a kiss in bed might feel, breathtaking and intimate and close in a way he could scarcely comprehend.

Richard's hand spreading slickness over his length was an unexpected addition, though.

Jason started to buck his hips, but Richard pulled away too fast, grabbing his waist again, drawing him closer. He felt the prince's long legs close around his sides, but was too captivated by the sight of his face to look. Richard had long, dark lashes, and an olive complexion unlike his pale father's. His black hair fell in perfect dishevelment over his brow, and his features somehow managed to radiate power and grace all at once.

He had a fraction of a second to appreciate the view before Richard leaned in and whispered into his ear.

“Inside me, Sir Knight. I want to feel you. _All_ of you.”

Jason and his exhale both shuddered, and he buried his face in the crook of Richard's neck.

“Please, my prince,” he said, though he wasn't sure what, exactly, he was begging for. “ _Please._ ”

Richard just chuckled and guided him forward.

It was strange at first, trying to find the right angle, then press inside despite the overwhelming wetness. He wondered briefly if things were so difficult for women, or if the extra inconvenience was his punishment for breaking his vows and lying with the prince. But, as if he'd done it many times before — and it made Jason almost angry to think that he had — Richard took the lead and gripped Jason's length until he was able to slip inside.

Surely it must have hurt. Surely the prince couldn't enjoy this, with how tight he felt around Jason. Surely he'd done something wrong, hurt him somehow, because there, he could feel Richard's nails digging into his back—

And he moaned. The softest, most melodic sound Jason had ever heard came out of the prince's mouth; he could scarcely believe _he_ might be responsible for such a thing. But those legs wrapped around him and forced him closer, and Richard sang “Like _that_ ” against his cheek, and Jason erupted, too, with an earthquake of a groan breathed out into Richard's skin.

He began to move before he made the conscious decision to do so. He was no stranger to pleasure, despite his vows, but his own hand couldn't compare to how it felt to be inside of Richard. Before then, he thought he understood how instinct worked, but he realized at that moment that he'd had no idea. It was primal, the feeling that overtook him and drove him to rock his hips like he'd done this a thousand times before. It was hot and it was wet and it was obscene, but Jason took to it like a moth to flame, joining himself to Richard like he didn't know how to exist any other way.

Richard's noises changed with Jason's demeanor; where at first they'd been slow and sweet, they became quick, staccato little things that burst from his lungs with every thrust as if his body had no room for them. Jason almost thought it hurt him, but Richard clung to him with every limb, and soon started to murmur encouragement into his ear.

“ _Yes,_ ” he said, “so good,” and then, “up just a bit more— Harder— _There._ ”

Jason had no idea what sort of magical spot he'd hit inside of Richard, but it seemed to affect his entire body, from his raking nails to his arched back to the urgent press of his heels against Jason's spine. He tossed his head back, and Jason took advantage of the position to first kiss, then bite his throat, possessed by some animal urge to mark him up. The prince's sounds rose in pitch and he begged with his voice and his body both, close to incoherence.

Jason was much the same. He heard a rumbling noise grow in volume, almost tearing him apart from the inside, and almost didn't realize that what he was hearing was the sound of his own growl. And wasn't it funny? He'd imagined himself to be the prince's rescuer, but here he was, teeth bared, bodies locked, laying claim to him like a beast.

He thought he might give up knighthood forever if it meant staying _Richard's_ beast.

Richard grabbed the side of his face. It was unclear whose sweat made his hand slip, but it hardly mattered once Jason was looking into those black-blown eyes of his. His beautiful brow was furrowed, his lovely hair plastered to his gorgeous skin, and he opened his mouth to moan heady, delicious words.

“ _Don't stop,_ ” he said. “Don't stop, I'm— I'm about to— Sir _Todd,_ Sir Todd, please, _please—_ ”

Jason wasn't about to stop, especially not after hearing Prince Richard say his name like that. With their foreheads pressed together, he could watch the prince's face contort, nose wrinkled, mouth open, and could feel nails at the side of his face and legs bruising his thighs, then a pulsing all around him, too much, enough to blank out his vision and send him, shuddering, over the edge.

He wasn't sure which of them finished first. They continued rocking together, gasping and shaking, until the pair of them at last sank down, blissful, into the bed sheets. It was more than Jason had ever imagined: the sweat and the slick and the _smell_ of it all. He felt he might never walk again, so worn out, but figured that was a small price to pay for the chance to lie with his prince.

Richard pulled Jason's head to his chest and threaded his fingers through damp hair. Jason felt his head rise and fall and rise again with every one of Richard's breaths (which meant he was alive, which meant Jason hadn't done something too unspeakable after all). He examined the oily mess made of Richard's stomach, then wrapped his arm around his middle anyway.

Above him, Richard chuckled. He felt the press of what might have been lips against the top of his head.

“You,” he said, with a smile in his voice, “ _must_ save me more often.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](https://dicktofen.tumblr.com/) for more inadvisable batfam fucks


End file.
